Cracked
by PercyJacksonAddict
Summary: Because even the greatest of heroes can be worn down until their very essence, their very soul is tearing at the seams and they just can't take it anymore. Set after HoO. Percabeth. Rated T for some dark stuff.


**Cracked**

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**Summary: **Because even the greatest of heroes can be worn down until their very essence, their very soul is tearing at the seams and they just can't take it anymore. Set after HoO. Percabeth. Rated T for some dark stuff.

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Annabeth Chase has spent her entire life learning to read people. She's mastered it to a fine art at this point and with a mere glance she can see deep into your soul and read you like a book.

And in the deepest pits of hell, when she looks over at her boyfriend and finds that when she tries to read him he's _not _thinking of something ridiculously simple…

It scares her.

And Annabeth Chase is not scared easily, let me tell you.

* * *

It's been a month since the end of the Giant war. Percy is safe and sound in her arms for now, and that means a thousand times more than saving the world will ever mean to her. Even with her hubris, sometimes she just looks Percy in the eyes and can't help but feel inferior.

Because Percy is a hero. Percy is _her _hero.

The aftermath of Tartarus got off to a rough start. Both Annabeth and Percy are short-tempered, vulnerable, and scarred. They both wonder how Nico di Angelo is able to keep it all in, because what they want more than anything is to just lay in a ditch and die.

She's seen Percy lash out at people. She's seen the fire in his eyes as he snaps and shouts at them to leave him alone. Everyone has gotten used to it, because everyone knows that's not Percy and whoever it is, they will never be Percy.

She's seen the darkness of guilt in his sea-green eyes as he immediately snatches up that person into a hug and apologizes profusely. Then she knows Percy has come back.

It scares her.

* * *

Even with the immense comfort and protection Percy supplies her with, Annabeth is terrified. She's terrified of him lashing out at _her. _She's terrified of him becoming someone else, because it's just _too _scary when his eyes darken like that. She hasn't been a victim of Percy's bottled up fury yet, and she's terrified of when that day will come.

Because ever since she met him when they were twelve she watched him. She watched as he lost everything, only to be forced to his knees by the needs of everyone around him. She watched him somehow stay strong through the inner torment and pressure of waking up every morning with a tired smile on his face and the weight of the world on his shoulders and his shoulders alone.

It's obvious he has every right to bear those intense kinds of emotions. She just wishes he would stop smiling and bottling them up, shoving them away and pretending they aren't there. That's his problem, she's learned. He's too much of a hero and he's drowning in his own emotions.

The worst part is that he knows this, and yet he lets it happen because he refuses to do anything but smile at her and she's not even close to being as good at returning the favor.

He's saved her too many times and it's now become impossible for her to ever fully give back. Sure, take a knife for him here and there, save his sorry butt in a monster fight using Athena logic and strategy, spare him when he's lost in one of their sparring matches, feed him ambrosia when Tartarus becomes too much for him.

But he held up the sky for her.

He went to Tartarus for her. He wouldn't let go. No matter how many times she let him go, no matter how many times she begged and lied and pleaded and cheated in hopes that he would just _leave her alone – _

He wouldn't let go.

And sometimes, she hates him for that.

A few months later, Annabeth stands in front of the mirror and stares at her reflection. Any other nineteen-year-old girl would freak if they saw _that _in the mirror but she's gotten used to it. There are red welts on her head from where her blond curls were ripped out. Her legs are covered in tiny scabs and scars are scattered all over the skin that used to glow with a California tan. Her arms have longer scars and the flat plane of her stomach draws even more attention due to the long gash up her side. The scars are little and white, but to her they mean so much and each one tells a story of its own.

Percy takes it upon himself to call her beautiful every opportunity he gets.

And sometimes, she hates him for that too.

* * *

The first time Percy directs his anger at her is only a few weeks after they buy their first apartment together. It has two bedrooms and two bathrooms and it's located in Midtown Manhattan so Annabeth is close to work and Percy doesn't have to go too far to get to college.

They had gotten into many fights about the apartment and little things like that which mostly ended in Percy sleeping on the couch for a night before begging her for forgiveness in the morning, but Annabeth knows that he was never truly angry at her.

She's working on a blueprint for a design for a statue of Apollo in their bedroom when Percy comes in. She looks up and sees he's wearing basketball shorts over his gray boxers and no shirt, and he's staring at his reflection the way she does.

A long while back, she realized that even though Percy had less scars than she did, his were much, much worse. He has deep claw marks on his back that are so real they almost look fake, like they were painted on for Halloween. His arms are covered in white lines. The worst scar, though, is a rough, jagged, dark red line that runs from the left side of the nape of his neck down to the small of his back where his old Achilles spot used to be. Sometimes she needs to look away, but she's teaching herself to love those scars because she loves every part of Percy and his scars do count as part of him, and because Percy acquired most of them saving her from something or other down in Tartarus.

She blinks in surprise when he suddenly turns around and looks at her. "Do you know how I got this one?" He points to the worst scar covering his front side.

She won't meet his eyes. She can't.

"No," she says.

"Stop it. Stop lying to my face, Annabeth! Just tell me! I don't care if I fucking died down there, I just want to know what the hell happened!" Percy yells.

It takes a second for Annabeth to recover from her shock, but when she does, the tears come and she can't stop them because she's been holding them in for far too long.

"Well that's basically what happened!" she screams. "The ghosts, the demons… they almost killed me but you had to be so damn _stupid _and just throw yourself in front of me and then they… they…"

The sound of Annabeth's heartbroken sobbing slams against the walls with a faint echo, and they slam against Percy with so much force he can barely breathe.

Annabeth gets lost in her tears and forgets about everything else. After months and months, she's finally cracked. She has to pretend she doesn't notice when Percy wraps his arms around her delicate frame because there's no way anyone could miss something as warm and comforting and wonderfully _Percy. _He's whispering sweet nothings into her ear and telling her he's so sorry and he's such a prick and he didn't mean to blow up and he loves her and he's so sorry. It makes her cry harder.

"I hate you," she sobs.

"I love you," he tells her. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her tenderly.

They both know it.

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_Fin._


End file.
